Episode Tag: Something's Rotten in Redmund, 4x20
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Lisbon hangs around to make sure Jane is okay after Rigsby's news. Spoilers, 4x20. Friendship/humor/comfort.


A/N: This was a fun episode, but boy did it end on a kick-you-in-the-stomach way. Simon Baker is a master at saying so much with just a look. As a matter of fact, Jane and Lisbon did a lot with looks in this episode. They know each other so well, sometimes dialogue isn't needed. Many great lines and scenes in this one—too many to list, not the least of which were all the _Hamlet _scenes. It did my English teacher heart proud. Yes, this episode is one I know I'll watch a few times more…

Here is my take on what might have happened post episode. Thanks to my new tweeps that requested I focus on not one, but three main themes: children, high school, and Hamlet. I hope I did the episode justice…

**Episode Tag: Something Rotten in Redmund**

"I suppose the California Department of Education owes you a debt of gratitude for not attending a public high school," said Lisbon, joining him on his couch in the bullpen.

"Mmm," he said noncommittally.

Jane had emerged from his attic hideout an hour after the shadow had crossed his face at Rigsby's happy baby news. She didn't think anyone else had noticed how seeing the newborn's picture had affected him, but Lisbon had seen, and she'd felt her heart clench at the brief flash of pain there. He'd alighted here finally, long after everyone else had gone, and Lisbon was determined to gauge his emotional state before she too left for the night.

"Because," she continued, as if he'd asked why she would say such a thing. "you looked much too at home sitting outside the principal's office."

"Oh," he replied. "That." He waved a dismissive hand, but then thought better of it. "I have to admit, though, Lisbon, I had fun walking the hallowed halls of a public educational institution. After all these years, the final piece of the puzzle locked into place for me, and I emerged with a new understanding of what being a teenager in the 1980's really meant."

"Oh?" asked Lisbon, stifling a yawn.

"_The Breakfast Club _makes so much more sense to me now."

Lisbon let out a bark of laughter, and she turned to see the familiar sparkle had returned to his eyes.

"Well I'm happy for you, Jane, truly. It's always nice to have closure."

She closed her eyes briefly, knowing it wouldn't take much for her to drift off to sleep. His face fell quickly again to melancholia.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, her heart picking up speed at her own temerity.

She watched the flicker of pain appear and disappear so quickly in his eyes that she might have imagined it. Then, to her amazement, he began to speak.

"When your child is born," he said tentatively, "you realize all your hopes and dreams have been manifested in the new bundle in your arms, and then it is like the weight of the world has been dropped unceremoniously on your shoulders. It's the most exhilarating, terrifyingly helpless feeling you will ever know. I'm ashamed to admit I envy Rigsby that."

Lisbon had never given birth, but she knew what it was like to have that kind of responsibility thrust upon you. What she wouldn't give to be able to start over with her brothers, to raise them again with the knowledge of the world that she had now. Yes, she understood Jane's guilt, that he blamed himself for his daughter's death, first and foremost because he hadn't been there to protect her. He'd also arrogantly insulted a serial killer, but she knew that was probably the secondary reason for his guilt.

"I can tell you were a wonderful father, Jane. I've seen how you interact with children, how they give you so much joy. You relate to them so intuitively—it's amazing to watch, really."

He shrugged, trying not to let her see what her words meant to him.

"That immaturity you accuse me of on a regular basis actually comes in handy sometimes."

"Yes," she said with a small smile. "That's true too. But you know something else? Had you not been a conman, you would have made an incredible teacher."

"Aw, the blind leading the blind, eh?"

"Something like that."

"Or maybe, an actor," she suggested. She thought with amusement of his recent amazing performance on the stage.

"What do you mean, Lisbon? What I used to do was all theatre."

"Yes, but you might have become just as wealthy and famous _admitting_ you were deceiving people—that's what actors do, right?"

He grinned. "I suppose you're right. But I was impatient, Lisbon, and hooked on the feeling of pulling off a successful con. And then I had a new mouth to feed, and I believed I couldn't give it up, that I didn't know how to do anything else. The weight of the world, remember?"

She nodded in understanding, and reached out to lightly touch his forearm. He glanced down at her hand, then met her eyes and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry about me, Lisbon. I've made my choice to _be_. I'm suffering the slings and arrows of what outrageous fortune has brought to my life. Some days it's a struggle, I admit, but…I'm still here, grunting and sweating…" His expression turned wry.

She wondered as she had many times over the years, what had kept him from killing himself, from ending the heartache by sleeping forever? She'd always come back to the conclusion that the thought of revenge kept him going, but now she realized it was more than that. He felt that living was a bigger punishment than dying.

"I'm glad you are still here," she said simply.

"Thank you, Lisbon," he said, and his grin widened. He slapped his thighs suddenly, tired of thinking about his bittersweet past. The birth of Rigsby's child was a happy event, and he'd put a pall on it by selfishly thinking of his own pain.

"You didn't happen to save me a slice or two of closed case pizza, did you?" he asked hopefully. He got up and went to the take-out box that remained on the table where the team had left it.

"Sure I did," she told him. "Now if Rigsby had been here, there would have been no guarantees…"

Jane opened the box and grabbed a slice, slipping it onto a paper plate. He brought it back over to the couch and rejoined her.

"Aww, room temperature, just the way I like it," he said dryly.

He grinned before taking a bite, paused, and held up the triangle in a crude toast. "Here's to Benjamin," he said. "And some great advice from the bard: _To thine own self be true, and__it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man."_

Lisbon raised an eyebrow, but tactfully didn't mention that Jane should learn to follow his own advice, or, at the very least, Shakespeare's. She yawned again, apologizing behind her hand.

"You should go home, Lisbon," he said softly. "I'm fine."

She turned her head to look at him in surprise. Was she truly that obvious to him?

"Are you really?"

"Yes."

"The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks."

He grinned in admiration at her paraphrase.

"What? You think you're the only one who's read Shakespeare?"

"Sometimes," he said. She treated him with the classic Lisbon eye roll. He covered his smile with another bite of pizza.

"Well, if you don't mind, I think I'm going to rest my eyes a bit before I go in and tackle that paperwork from the Redmund case," she told him.

"I don't mind at all."

She leaned back against the couch, her eyes drifting close. She was out in a matter of seconds. When her sable head began leaning to the side to rest on his shoulder, he looked down at her sleeping face.

"Aww, Lisbon," he whispered. "_Sleep, perchance to dream…"_

When her mouth dropped open and she began snoring softly, Jane methodically finished his pizza, before he too, eventually succumbed.

A/N: Thanks for reading this. I realize it was sort of all over the place, but I hope it was entertaining, and that you could picture it actually happening.

I guess we'll have another dry couple of weeks without any new episodes, so I hope you check out my current story "Goldilocks and the Red Wizard" to tide you over. Or heck, it would be cool if you went back and read ANY of my fics!

*All the quotes and paraphrases were from _Hamlet, _of course.


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